


Poisoned Fingertips

by iammisscullen



Category: One Direction
Genre: AU, M/M, mention of cheating, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3693296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iammisscullen/pseuds/iammisscullen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But Harry never forgets to lock his door. Never. He does forget to change where he puts the emergency key though. And Harry knows he should transfer it from under the rug to somewhere else. But like always, Harry forgets to. Or his heart does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poisoned Fingertips

**Author's Note:**

> What happens when I listened constantly to Olly Murs' [Troublemaker](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4aQDOUbErNg).  
> Self-indulgent. This is what happens when I'm broken, I finish the shit I started writing fucking months ago.  
> Self beta-ed so as always, all mistakes are mine. The mundane shit you see.  
> Bear with me. Thanks in advance!

 

_BandAids don’t fix bullet holes_

_You say sorry just for show_

_If you live like that, you live with ghosts._

**-Taylor Swift** , **_Bad Blood_**

 

Harry knows that the front door is closed – locked actually. But Harry also knows that he keeps a key under the WELCOME HOME mat for emergency purposes. And there are _always_ emergency purposes because Harry is forgetful like that. He forgets and he tries so hard not to anymore.

He forgot his Mum’s birthday once, he almost burned down his flat twice because he forgot to turn off the stove, he forgot to feed his goldfish – Orange – and so she died, he often forgets to fill his car with gas which leads to a lot of pulling and pushing session from St. James Hospital to Torrington Square.

But Harry never forgets to lock his door. Never. He does forget to change where he puts the emergency key though. And Harry knows he should transfer it from under the rug to somewhere else. But like always, Harry forgets to. Or his heart does.

Another thing about Harry is that, he is too kind for his own good. He gives and gives and gives till nothing is left for himself, till people abuse him. But that’s okay, Harry’s forgiving; easily pardoning people for their mistakes because nobody’s perfect, right?

So when you start a discord with Harry Styles, don’t worry because he forgives and forgets.

Or he should.

**

He lies down in his bed. Harry thinks again about his stupid door lock. And then his phone beeps up. A text.

Harry doesn’t even need to look up to know who it is from. He knows who it is from like he knows tomorrow he’s going to make breakfast out of eggs and not bacon, he’s going to drink Earl Grey instead of his favourite strawberry flavoured tea with 2 sugars in it. So he tries to change his fate, to go against the odds because he likes it better when he forgets than remember.

But Harry remembers this time. Unfortunately, he does.

And when his phone lights up again, followed by his ringtone – he can’t help but miss when he forgets instead.

The door is lock, he assures himself. It is lock. But it should be his heart that he has to put shackles on because it literally skips a beat when a knock is heard from the door. There’s no way Harry will not know – will forget – because Harry may be forgetful but his heart doesn’t fail to remember.

So when the door opens without Harry’s consent, footsteps treading the floor and up stairs, Harry forgets that he also forgives like he remembers that he could not always forget.

**

‘You need to stop coming here, Zed,’ Harry tells the other bloke with raven hair in disarray and is slicing the toast in his plate. But he’s voice sounds so far off from being convincing.

‘I know,’ Zayn replies, running a graceful hand through his hair and Harry wishes he can look away, have the strength to look away but he watches Zayn’s move – Zayn’s _every_ move – because Harry has a bad habit of noticing everything that Zayn does with his hands, his eyes, his lips, his whole body.

Their eyes catches each other for a second and it’s enough to convey a message because they have both fell down the rabbit hole, both too lost in the Wonderland they have created that it’s impossible to crawl back up to a sensible ground. Eyes wide open, but hearts blind and deaf to anything except, whatever is this between them.

He looks away when Zayn sips his cup of Earl Grey tea. He’s seen too much, remembers too much. And Harry should just forgive so he can move on, so they both can move on. But his heart begs at him to hold on, to keep things as they are because broken as it is, it still functions. And maybe Harry should have lectured his own heart about limitations and breaking point.

Harry should have also told Zayn about the existence of _Point of No Return_ , that sometimes when things get broken they don’t leave just cracks and scars but they leave nothing at all because everything has been completely annihilated.

‘I can’t do this anymore,’ Harry says, staringat his buttered toast and lukewarm cup of tea.

‘I know,’ Zayn replies weakly.

‘Do you?’ Harry snaps, glares at Zayn.

Their eyes meet for the second time since they started eating breakfast, green piercing through hazel ones.

‘Look, you can’t just blame me for everything,’ Zayn defends, tone rising. ‘You can’t just forever blame me for everything, Harry.’ He glares back this time. ‘For fuck’s sake, you were also to blame.’

‘You broke me, Zayn,’ Harry retorts. ‘Tore me up till I can’t think straight. Till I can’t even breathe!’

Zayn looks away weakly. Harry knows he won. But why does it not feel like victory? Why does it feel like a loss?

**

Harry kisses Zayn just as enthusiastic as Zayn is kissing him. Zayn’s tongue invading Harry’s mouth; he lets it happen, lets Zayn take control because Harry’s always pliant when Zayn’s holding him close. Harry’s always willing to do whatever Zayn wants, let everything in him open to Zayn.

His Mum had always warned him about heartless people who make your heart beat quickly. She said they’re just using yours because theirs won’t start.

And Harry should have heeded her warning. He should have.

But all thoughts are lost; sanity left together with the discarded clothes on the floor as Zayn undresses Harry with familiar and quick fingers, tracing patch of skin that has Harry shuddering with want. And all he can think is _more, more, more_.

With his better judgement no longer intact as Zayn eases into him, Harry grabs for Zayn tighter with a thin strand of hope that this time will be different, that this time… Zayn will not break him.

**

‘I can’t be an option,’ he spits out acidly, making sure that it stabs Zayn where it’d hurt like he hurts. But maybe Zayn’s too numb, couldn’t care less anymore.

‘You’re not,’ Zayn assures him weakly.

Harry wants to go into hysterics because even after all this time, after all Zayn had done to him, the bloke had the confidence to lie to his face. Harry’s not _that_ stupid.

‘Tell me that when you stop cheating on us both,’ he says with a tired voice. He really is knackered with all the shit they’ve been doing for so long. It’s like reading the same old book over and over again and wishing for the ending to change, but of course, it doesn’t.

Zayn doesn’t have anything to say, just sips more of his Earl Grey.

He wonders what Zayn is thinking. _Her_ , maybe? And when Zayn’s with _her_ does he think about him? He wants to know, wants to ask, but he’s afraid of the answer. So, he stays silent. Sometimes, things are better not said.

‘You need to leave,’ Harry says, choked with all the ache he feels deep within his marrows. ‘And _please_ don’t come back.’

‘Harry,’ Zayn begins, reaches out for his hand on the table.

Harry jerks his hand back, afraid that he’d change his mind with a single touch. That’s how strong Zayn’s hold on him is – with a touch that bursts fireworks under Harry’s skin, kisses that clouds his logic; like a drug injected into his bloodstream.

‘Maybe we can work something out?’ Zayn suggests, eyes looking into Harry’s with desperation like he’s the only lifeboat left in a sinking ship.

He wants to save him. But he can’t do that without drowning himself because Zayn doesn’t even try on saving himself.

‘I’m so sorry, Zayn,’ he says. ‘I can’t.’ He blinks back his tears stares at his hands instead because he can’t watch this vulnerable Zayn before him, the one that makes him want to hurt himself instead so Zayn can be spared of the pain. But that’s not healthy as well. ‘I’ll always love you. But, I can’t.’

Because his Mum also told him before that sometimes you can’t save people, you can only love them; you can’t hold them down, only give them reasons to stay. And Harry had given Zayn plenty of reasons to stay; it’s just up to the other man to take it.

**

So, when the doorbell rings that night as Harry waits for sleep to come, he questions why he hasn’t changed the hiding spot of his spare key.

 

_//_

_you’re just bones_

_and a beating heart_

_and a pair of bright eyes_

_how did you fuck me up so bad_

**(Tumblr)**

_//_

 

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill. Thanks again! xoxo


End file.
